


Second Chance

by arthurmorgan-s-heart (Silverblind)



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, Family, Fluff, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-07
Updated: 2019-02-07
Packaged: 2019-10-23 17:53:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17688092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silverblind/pseuds/arthurmorgan-s-heart
Summary: Arthur never would have thought he'd get a second chance at everything he doesn't deserve.





	Second Chance

**Author's Note:**

> This is a request fill from my tumblr blog. Uploaded here for convenience - find me on tumblr - arthurmorgan-s-heart
> 
> Original request text: "I would love to get a story where the reader is close to giving birth and Arthur dotes on her every chance he gets and then when the baby comes he's just a big bag of sweetness? I need some absolute fluff please?"
> 
> Obligatory disclaimer: I have never been pregnant or given birth - so…

Arthur feels as if he’s been sitting outside your tent for days.

He can hear you - it would be difficult no to. Your screaming and cursing might have made him smile had every sound that left your mouth not been laced with agony. He had wanted to stay by your side, more than anything - but to see and hear you in so much pain had been too much. So he sits, and waits.

They all come by to comfort him and tell him that everything’ll be alright - Dutch and Hosea and John and Charles and everyone else, one after the other, but their well-intentioned words are forgotten as soon as they step away; right now, nothing else matters but you, and the child you’re bringing into the world - his child.

The mere thought still paralyses him with fear, even after all those months. The memory of Isaac and Eliza haunt him, flood him with grief and dread and regret and - he squeezes his eyes shut, taking a deep breath; it would be different this time.  _He_ would be different this time.

Suddenly, there is a break in your shouts - an eerie silence settles upon the camp, stretching for what seems to be hours, before a long, plaintive cry rings out; the unmistakable sound of the beginning of a new life.

Arthur is on his feet in half a heartbeat, running across camp and almost bowling Tilly over when he pushes his way into the tent just as she steps out to fetch him.

“Arthur!” she gasps, and he mutters an apology that he’s not sure she quite catches - there would be time later. For now, only one -  _two_ \- things mattered.

The inside of the tent is warm and dark, and there is a faint smell of blood in the air. He pauses for a moment to let his eyes grow accustomed to the gloom, and then he sees you, pale and dishevelled, but smiling, cradling a small bundle in the crook of your arm. He suddenly feels as if his entire body has turned to stone, and he can only stand there and watch as you whisper adoring words that he can’t quite grasp, looking down at the baby in your arms with something that could only be described as awe.

“It’s a girl, Mr. Morgan.” Ms. Grimshaw touches his shoulder lightly, gently pushing him further into the tent as Abigail leaves discreetly. “Congratulations.”

She takes her leave, and suddenly the world outside the tent stops existing - there is only you, and him, and  _her_. He steps closer, slowly, carefully, as if afraid that the vision of you holding his child might shatter at any moment - he’s still not completely convinced that he’s not dreaming. And yet, even in his wildest dreams, he had never thought to be able get a second chance at happiness - at a family.

You look up at him when he kneels next to the bed, with tears in your eyes and a smile as bright as the sun itself on your lips. He doesn’t dare look down at the baby in your arms, though he’s not quite sure why.

“She’s here, Arthur,” you breathe with a shuddering laugh as he reaches out to smooth your sweat-matted hair away from your face, brushing your cheek with his thumb. “She’s here. She’s here…”

“Yeah,” he whispers, feeling his own throat become thick with tears. “She is.”

“Here,” you say, shifting toward him - you wince in pain, and immediately feel him try to push you back down, but you give him a reassuring smile, and he relents. “Take her.”

He feels himself freeze again, and he almost wants to say no; his hands are too big and too rough and she’s so small and fragile and - but he’s reaching out before he even realises he is, and he gathers her in his arms before finally allowing himself to look at her, his breath leaving him as he takes her in. She’s pink and wrinkly and barely awake, and yet she’s everything he’s ever wanted. He’s shaking when he runs a finger gently down her cheek, with more tenderness than he had ever thought to possess, feeling the soft, warm skin of his child against his. He looks back up at you, unable to manage a single word, and you reach out a hand to cradle his cheek, gently tugging him closer to press a kiss to his forehead and allowing your lips to linger on his skin for a long while before he pulls away, looking down at the child in his arms once more.

“Hey there.” His voice cracks and breaks as he finally allows his tears to roll down his cheeks. “Welcome.”


End file.
